


Nemesis

by Mother_North



Series: Of Gravity & Opposition [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Competitors & Rivals, Emotional, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV First Person, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Psychology, Some angst, dealing with FEELINGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 01:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12495008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: A sequel to "My sweetest victory", in which Rostelecom Cup is described through Nathan's eyes. He has won once again but will his victory be that sweet this time around..?





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write this fic. It was inevitable, in a way.  
> I am not a native English speaker and I apologize for possible mistakes in advance.  
> I would like to dedicate this work to all of those who, for even a tiny bit, care about this pairing.  
> The lines of the epigraph are taken from the song "Nemesis" by Benjamin Clementine, which happens to be the  
> music of this season Nathan's SP. All of the feedback is really appreciated. Hope you'll enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I am sorry for such a cheesy summary.  
> Disclaimer: This work is a product of author's imagination and is not meant to offend anyone.

_If I held my breath on you  
I would have died a thousand times_

**POV Nathan**

Moscow greeted us with golden leaves and crisp, frosty air. After landing at Domodedovo a transfer was arranged to take me, Rafael, Greg, Mirai, Mariah, Alex and Maia to “Aerostar” hotel, where our rooms had already been waiting. The flight went fine and our microbus was lucky enough to escape infamous Moscow traffic jams on the way to hotel, so there was nothing to complain about. As I was lying on a big and comfy bed, relaxing after a long trip, I heard some excited voices from the street. A window of my room was overlooking the parade doors of the hotel and I saw a few dozens of people had gathered there as a white minivan parked at the entrance. It was already dark but I distinguished your slender silhouette the moment you stepped out onto the concrete, out of the sliding doors of the car. _Yuzuru._ I haven’t seen you since the World Championships in Helsinki where you reclaimed your world title in a remarkable manner. And there, of course, was Gangneung in February. We exchanged a mandatory share of “hello” and “hi” and “congratulations” and formal handshakes and hugs and absolutely nothing more. Not a word between us about _that_ one night during Four Continents Championships. I’ve wanted to address it with you a million times – fingers hovering over mobile screen to dial your number or to send a message only to be finally conquered by my inner voice, telling me that it was nothing more than a one-night stand, just raw sex at the heat of a moment. A crazy whim, an inexplicable impulse which seemed surreal to me at times but nevertheless left me aching for more. Frankly, what that _more_ could possibly be I had no idea. All of the possible phrases playing out inside my head sounded ridiculous at best: “You know, Yuzuru, I really enjoyed fucking you so, maybe, we should do it again some other time?” or ”Will you date me, Yuzuru, your five-years younger, bitter competitor, because I really like you, you know? ”. It sounded shallow and plain pathetical. Heck, I am not even sure that I’ve already sorted out my own feelings for you, apart from the realization of the notion that there definitely _were_ some. The only thing I actually knew was that I had to claw my victory over you again and, perhaps, then, I’d have a chance to find out what the odds between us really were. Rafael Vladimirovich told me that he had never seen me more motivated in my whole life. Speaking of my dear coach, he interrupted the trail of my thoughts with the suggestion to go downstairs for a delayed supper, to have some tasty traditional Russian crepes with red caviar. Who would have declined, honestly? I thought about the possibility of meeting you in the hotel restaurant but my hopes were quickly dissipated because you were not a late-eater, for sure. An evening meal in the company of my coach and team-mates went in a casual and relaxing atmosphere  – all friendly laughs and high expectations, cheering each other up and wishing good luck in the upcoming tournament, with me retiring to my room immediately afterwards. That night I fell asleep realizing acutely that you are somewhere not far, in the same building as me. My slumber was restless, tinted with a viscous longing I couldn’t get myself to battle.

       The open practice was abysmal because I couldn’t concentrate completely, catching concerned glances from Rafael, him asking me worriedly what was the matter. I just shrugged my shoulders and told him that probably my travelling fatigue was the case. I did my best not to stare at you openly in front of everyone’s eyes. Panther-like grace, fluid motions in every deep edge of your strokes, well-controlled power in each of your jumps. I saw you trying your brand new weapon – quad Lutz. You hadn’t managed to tame it fully yet, it was obvious with all of the struggling on the landings. But you fought as always, with clenched teeth, sweating profusely and whispering some sort of encouragements in Japanese to yourself from time to time. The height of the jump was scary, the technique of execution as breathtakingly beautiful as it was risky. Jumping in that way was hard to control and I knew that you’d still need some time to stabilize it properly. You wanted to go for +3 GOE only and for the beauty of the jump you risked it’s percentage of successful landings, the rate not being very high evidently, but that’s just how you were. One of the main reasons why you were loved and adored by so many figure-skating fans from all around the world, your contempt for compromising was widely known: no half-lights, no half- felt declarations existed in your mindset of a champion – only extreme passionate determination and stubborn dedication, verging on the suicidal at times. You wanted to be second to none and in many aspects you really were, including the infamous “killer” gazes, which, I had to confess to myself, I missed so much. I loved how your delicate facial features sharpened practically in no time, as if lit up from the inside by a hidden demonic flame. All eyes were set on you every time you entered an ice-rink and I knew exactly why. I could feel it too, a quiet commanding energy emanating from each pore of your being but I didn’t find it to be suppressing, on the contrary, it thrilled me and filled with excitement to no end: I wanted to top you, I wanted to conquer you, I wanted to prove to you that I was worthy of you _. My nemesis._

The day of the short program had come and “Megasport” ice arena was practically bursting with badly concealed apprehension of the high-profile competition. Constant excited buzz ringing in my ears, perceptible tension flooding my senses, making my heart rate quicken considerably. The hype over Rostelecom cup was huge that time and I found myself staring at the back of the main reason behind it.  You were completely immersed in the zone then, as on the previous day too, and I knew better than trying to search any kind of personal contact with you.  An amount of your fans present at the stadium was nothing short of extraordinary, I even had to queue in order to get into the arena. It was funny really because, apart from a couple of guys asking for an autograph, I went completely unrecognized by the majority of the attending people. _Pooh-rain was inevitable._ I didn’t manage to spot a banner saying “Nathan” in golden letters for quite some time, because of all of the banners made by your talented fans, but once my eyes caught a glimpse of it, I was truly grateful and it energized me in a way, adding much needed confidence.

      I skated my short program with style, well, at least, I was told so later by Rafael Vladimirovich. It really was my day and the music seemed to seep through me, it pulled my heart strings in a manner I’d never ever known was possible before. I _felt_ the melody on that day, its bitterness and sarcastic flair piercing my soul, each of my movements correlated with my breathing and pulse, making modern choreography look natural and absolutely relevant. It was success – my SP score being over one hundred points. My coach looked satisfied and so was I, waiting anticipatory for your performance of the Ballade. You stepped on the ice and from the tensed look of your neck and shoulders I could see that you were not 100% fit on that day.  First jumping pass was not landed perfectly and a millisecond hesitation during the execution of the quad toe– triple toe combination in the second half of the program made you fall in front of a gasping audience. Last notes of Chopin subsided and you flashed beautiful smiles to the cameras. After the performance a tiny, unidentified cute kid surprised you with an unexpected gift in the form of a simple pencil drawing. I noticed the way your long fingers pulled over the gold-embroidered collar of your Chopin costume in a hardly concealed irritated manner. You were frustrated and there could be no other way around to feel in your eyes, not with such level of execution of the technical elements. Your short program had already reached a status of classics and it deserved a fitting performance. The scores on the board were far from beating your own WR and I felt that on the following day I had to seize and grab the opportunity to fight for a chance to win over you again because I had a crazy idea that it would somehow help me _winning you over_ in the process. My dreams that night were filled with a vision of a fragile figure dancing mesmerizingly to an intricate, passionate melody of the piano.

       Opening my eyes on the morning of the free skate I felt full of energy and headed directly to the arena for the scheduled training. My mood was rather good but it soured considerably as the practice went on because my newly learnt quad loop seemed to desert me, all of a sudden. I discussed the issue with Rafael Vladimirovich and we decided together that it was too risky to include it in my program on that day. I had once again to rely on my unfailing quad lutz – triple toe combo as a prime weapon of choice. I watched intently from the corner of an eye as you kept on struggling with your own jumps. Maybe, I could provide you with some tips on the quad lutz sometime in the future. Brian looked apprehensive, his kind face furrowed in worry, though he tried not to show it, and I had only tried to imagine what it was like to train someone as strong-willed and stubborn as you were. I was pulled out harshly from my thoughts by the voice of my coach:

– Nathan, come on, what’s the hell is wrong with you today? Get yourself together, boy, you know you have to. Today is your big day, come on. You lose focus all of the time and I would like to know why…Please, tell me, you can trust me fully…I need to know.

– Oh it’s nothing special, really, captain. I’ve just slept pretty badly. Nerves and stuff like that, you know. There’s nothing much to worry about, I’ll be fine and remember that you’ve promised to buy me an extra serving of those delicious crepes in case of my victory. Well, just be aware that I am super-motivated now!

       I tried to laugh it all off nonchalantly and it seemed to me that I failed miserably. I couldn’t fool Rafael Vladimirovich, who knew me too well and whose experienced, trained eyes told him unmistakably that I was obviously hiding something. I knew that I had a serious talk to deal with later. The mere presence of yours distracted me greatly and the perpetual fight with myself didn’t help at all. My gaze was clinging constantly to your sculptured, lithe form, clad in that blasted skin-tight under armor of yours .Maybe, it was one of your little tricks to deter the training process of your rivals…I do not know, honestly, but it worked on me infallibly and, besides, I remembered, perhaps, too vividly how you looked with absolutely _nothing_ on.  As a result, I ended up training with my eyes downcast, looking at the surface of the ice as if some great secrets had been written there and I had to decipher them at all costs. I also noticed the way you were studying the traces your blades had left carved on the expanse of ice. You looked immersed in your own world, where every, even the smallest detail, seemed of great importance to you, in a never-ending quest for absolute perfection. The degree of your obsession looked a bit scary and weird for an outside viewer but that was yet one more thing about you that I found so captivating and special. I was irresistibly drawn to you and I didn’t know the antidote to your charms.

      I witnessed your unique magic in action on that day again, while you were skating your iconic free program – Seimei. You seemed to fill the whole arena with dominating presence of the long-deceased magi, who casted a spell on everyone in the public. Audience forgot how to breathe and by the end of your performance and they appeared to be ensnared, entrapped completely by your charismatic character and otherworldly skating, ready to worship you at the tiniest wave of your little gloved hand. You were a sight to behold, truly. Frantic cheering met the birth of your quad lutz, you had managed to rotate and land it on your first attempt at the official competition. _Impressive._ The jump was spectacular and I knew full well what it cost to successfully execute one. You looked regal and commanding – a _shogun_ : all fierce eyes and sharp oomph. A bow of a head and a proud smile to thank the ecstatic audience who was bombarding the ice, you were standing on, with crazy quantity of red-yellow plushies and other sacrificial gifts in an practically ritualistic manner. I had to swallow hard, the pause before my performance dragging because the ice surface had to be cleansed.

      Your total sum didn’t look as scary as it could have been had it not for your tripled loop, third level step sequence and one failed attempt at doing the quad toe – triple toe jumping cascade. You had left me chances and now it was up to me whether I’d be able to use them properly, the lead after the short program was also on my side. It was very hard to skate right after you, because everyone seemed to be still engaged in your performance and at a certain point I felt my confidence waver, my body breaking in cold sweat. I closed my eyes and told myself to breath, accepting your challenge dignifiedly. It was our battle and to give up without a fight was not on the list of my intentions. An approach to my free program for this important season had been quite bold, the music and choreography being rather complex and modern, obviously not to everybody’s taste. I had no idea how the judges would evaluate it and I banished thoughts of the final result from my mind, concentrating only on giving my best. “Le Sacre du printemps” feral energy shoot through my veins and I felt a strong urge to move to the music as if almost on an instinct, without overthinking, without restraint, just the way I felt it, just the way it felt right to me at that particular moment of time. The program was still far from being refined and I was sloppy with my skating skills and some of the landings and I felt that it was not enough to best you in our principal duel, but somehow beyond belief, I won despite of losing free skate to you. The realization of my triumph didn’t want to come at once and only roar of the spectators and a flow of tears of your fans had made me believe that my victory at the Grand-Prix series event was not a part of one of my wild dreams.

      Later, at the press-conference I grabbed a microphone and congratulated you on successfully landing your first, long-awaited quad lutz. I was absolutely sincere and the way you bowed your head and smiled shyly made my heart skip a bit. I felt a fleeting touch of your fingers on my thigh beneath the table and it scorched me even through the layer of clothes. I missed the feeling of your hands terribly and a gnawing desire settled deep in my underbelly lit anew. I was afraid to let myself think about the possibility of it being reciprocal.

        The traditional supper with team USA went in a cheerful atmosphere of true camaraderie and mischievous, goodhearted pranks and laughs. Alex and Maia had won too, so we all were satisfied at how our mission was accomplished. Chewing on the promised portion of tasty crepes I caught Rafael’s knowing gaze not once during the shared meal and it made me feel anxious. I said goodnight to everyone and headed to the elevator to take me to my hotel room. The already closing door was caught by the hand of my coach at the last moment and he squeezed himself into the roomy cabin. I looked at his face and I had a bad feeling about our upcoming talk.

– Are you positively nuts, Nathan? The way you look at _him_ all of the time…It’s so obvious, believe me. You have Olympic Games right on the horizon and you are ready to waste the opportunity of your whole life for a casual shag with a certain cute Japanese boy? It’s insane!

       I felt heat rise to my cheeks and a wave of panic stroke me hard. How the fuck did he figure it out, in the first place?

– I…I have no idea what you are talking about. It’s ridiculous…I…

Rafael Vladimirovich lifted his hand in a warning gesture:

– Don’t lie to me, you know that it’s useless. Wait…Wait, or have you already…Oh, my fucking god! – he grabbed me by the collar of my training jacket and his face contorted with a mix of shock and anger in a scary proximity to mine. Right then, I wanted to fall through the elevator floor and crash somewhere underneath in an unrecognizable pile of flesh and bones. Was he some kind of a mind reader or something? My sudden panic changed to resentment and I felt my blood boil slowly. How dare he judge me, how dare he dictate me what to do with my personal life..? I respected him greatly as a coach and a person and had always listened to his advices but that time it was too much.

– That’s none of your concern. Leave my personal life to me. I am just asking you not to tell anyone and I promise that I won’t let it all go out of control! Please, believe me!

      My coach shook his head frustratingly and let go of my shirt in a surrendering manner. He looked upset, without a doubt.

– I just wish you have told me. We need to trust each other completely to make our partnership work, to reach our mutual, final goal. All I want is for you to be happy and to know that I am on your side, no matter what. Don’t let your feelings overtake your sense, the price can be too high and you’ll never be able to forgive yourself at the end. Just be careful and try to sort it all out as fast as possible, ok? Also, I don’t blame you really because, damn, the kid _is_ good…

       He patted my shoulder comfortingly and went out of the elevator, leaving me thoroughly confused. My head pounded as I was lying wide awake in my hotel bed, thinking what to do next. I was attracted to you powerfully and I had no idea how to deal with this sort of feelings. I was afraid that I’d be rejected but the memory of your hand on my thigh during the interview told me otherwise, making the hope live in my heart against all odds. It was a very long, cold night and the pure joy of my victory was tarnished with sickening uncertainty and wistful craving.

**

 


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Nathan's stay in Moscow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit rating applies to this chapter.  
> Epigraph and epilogue lines are once again taken from Benjamin Clementine's song "Nemesis".  
> Undertones of power play are also present as well as some angst towards the end.

_If you held your breath on me  
You would have died a million times_

**POV Nathan**

 

      I woke up very early and not rested at all. I watched as the sky on the horizon was turning ash-grey with the morning light, heavy clouds not letting sunrays break through their cloak. It was a rather gloomy paysage. The last day of my stay in Moscow began and on the morning of the following day a scheduled flight was to take me to the States, to take me away from you. My time was limited and I realized it acutely, deciding to act upon my inner desires and come what may. I got dressed quickly and went downstairs to the reception desk because I needed some instructions. I found out where the nearest drugstore was situated and it turned out to be not far – only five minutes down the street. It was pretty damn cold outside and the first snowflakes were dancing lazily in the fresh autumn air. Typically Moscow October snow. Finding the pharmacy without any problems I asked an elderly saleswoman for “that special tiny bottle at the far corner of the shelf”, blushing profusely at the same time. She was smirking, staring at me fixedly the whole time, while I made a mental note to myself that buying lube was quite an awkward experience. I hoped that my efforts were not in vain.

       After having a light breakfast we were transferred to the “Megasport” arena for a planned rehearsal of the upcoming Gala. The atmosphere there was relaxed and there was a lot of fooling around. I noticed that you were not in a bad mood, albeit a bit sleepy at the start, but then you outshined everyone else once again. You started to imitate dance moves with Misha Ge, while giggling coquettishly. You two were on good terms apparently.

       Time for the victory ceremony arrived unnoticeably and I ascended onto the highest step of the pedestal. I was wearing my simplistic costume which consisted of plain dark trousers and a shirt. It seems that shirts are beginning to be something akin my trademark style. You in your turn were dressed in Seimei costume and I bet that the first few rows were blinded by the way it sparkled. Noble white fabric was adorned with exquisite shining embroidery of feathery and flower patterns, a golden belt highlighting your wasp waist and the traditional Japanese style, in which the costume had been made, added to your exotic splendor. Mikhail Kolyada’s Elvis-styled costume looked rather humble in comparison.  

       I bent down to give you a congratulatory hug and while you leaned into my arms, returning my embrace with a charming smile, I jabbered right into your ear:

– You can wear my golden medal tonight, if you want to.

     Your response was hushed and just as fast:

– I think  _I will_.

       Smiling happily like a fool with my heart beating wildly against my ribcage I was listening to the national anthem of the USA, eager to see my medal around your slender neck. Relief was washing over me at the realization that my quite dubious suggestion was accepted and I was not rejected. My hand fitted perfectly with your waist and I felt distinctly your body heat radiating even through the layers of the costume.   

       The day flew by ridiculously fast, I must say, especially, considering how densely packed with events it was. I was truly enjoying the Gala, performing my exhibition number with casual ease. The song was called “Parachute” and its title seemed quite symbolic to me because I myself felt as if I had already jumped off the cliff and the only thing I was able to do now, was to pray for not crushing down cruelly.

      All of the skaters were having really good time and the atmosphere at the ice-arena was warm and festive. The feedback from the audience was absolutely great and it was supportive towards performing skaters: whether it was a comical “Baba Yaga” from Russian Mikhail Kolyada or a dreamy “Clair de Lune” from Italian figure-skating diva Carolina Kostner. And then there was  _The Swan_. Public seemed to forget how to breath, being enthralled by your graceful, sensual moves. You were seemingly flying above the sparkling surface of the ice, light of the projectors washing over your delicate frame. You were supposed to walk on the Milky Way, but on that day you were treading on pink clouds instead.  _Ethereal vision of pure beauty_. You won everyone over, delivering one of the best performances of this EX of all times.

        There was a burst of traditional confetti of golden ribbons at the end of the gala concert and it definitely added to the range of unforgettable moments. It looked like you were genuinely fascinated with flashy ribbons and fooled around with them in an almost childish, yet very endearing manner.  _Kawaii_  was not enough to describe the way you looked then. Misha Ge graced the world with one more epic selfie of his, in which you ended up literally at the top of the world, towering above everyone else, thanks to the effortless and very timely lift from Czech pair-skater   – Ondrej Hotarek. He immediately became not only one of the main heroes of the day, but also a hero for all of your numerous fans. Funnily enough, one could easily play a game of “spot the victor of the tournament” while looking at the photograph, because my face happened to be at the very periphery of the shot.  You were  _the star_ , always, and I accepted it without demur. As if on a whim, I shoved one of the golden ribbons into the pocket of my trousers.

      The tournament went to its inevitable end and in the general fuss I suddenly felt you dragging me somewhere forcibly, away from the buzzing crowd. After several turns of the badly lit corridor we ended up together in the small boxroom with white walls. I heard the door lock clicking and I felt my pulse quickening simultaneously. I saw something  _very_ obscure in your eyes and it made me shiver. I felt your hand going straight into the pocket of my pants, taking out the said shining ribbon. With my eyes open wide I watched as you tied it around your neck loosely, making its ends flow freely. My breath caught in my throat and I felt my blood heading south immediately. You bit the tip of a finger and slowly removed the bodily-colored glove with the help of teeth, your intense eyes never leaving mine. I leaned into you for a kiss, pressing you to the wall with my body, but you turned your head away abruptly:

– No kiss. No ruin costume, – you spoke sternly while pouting capriciously. I knew better than to object to these little games of yours. I sighed surrendering to your will, letting you take the lead. You smirked darkly as your deftly fingers unzipped my black trousers and took my readily hardening flesh out through the opened fly. I closed my eyes, moaning quietly. Your hand moved gently, yet skillfully, applying the needed amount of pressure in all of the required places. You were very good at it,  _too_  good, to be honest, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to last long. I was looking intently at the pulse point beating visibly under the tender skin of your swan-like neck and the glittering fabric of the golden ribbon and I thought that I could probably come just from that sight alone. You licked your lips, quickening your hand movements, thumb pressing over the oozing slit. My hips started to buck involuntarily and I brushed the velvety fabric of your pants, dragging my painfully hard cock across your shapely hip, the contact making me gasp desperately. What followed next was of a total shock because you slapped me quite tangibly across the cheek.

 – I said  _no ruin costume_.

       You were insufferable but totally irresistible. I stretched my hand and outlined your cupid bow lips with the merest touch of my fingertips. Looking at me with half-lidded eyes, you took my middle and index fingers into your mouth and started sucking sensually, languid strokes of your wet tongue coinciding with the rhythm of your commanding hand on my erect cock. Pornographic view was driving me mad, you looked so  _dirty_ , it was practically beyond belief. I was panting hard, feeling myself on the verge, droplets of sweat forming on my forehead and sliding down my spine.

 – Fuck…Oh, Yuzu… I think I am gonna…

      You stepped aside agilely and the next moment I was coming hard, sperm shooting all over the wall and over your warm, engulfing fingers. My knees gave out and I had to press my hands against the wall for support. I noticed that your breathing was ragged too but you still maintained your composure, only flushed cheeks giving you away. That was intense.  _You were intense_.

       You wiped your hand off with the underside of my white, crumpled shirt, took off the golden ribbon from around your neck and put on the glove, as if nothing had happened. You cut the distance between us, puffy lips almost touching mine and whispered in a husky voice:

 – Later. After the banquet. We continue.

       You unlocked the door and I was left alone with my head resting powerlessly against the wall and my hands shaking weakly, not knowing how to survive till the nightfall.

       In the evening all of the participants of the Rostelecom Cup were gathered at the banquet hall of the “Aerostar” hotel for a farewell party. The fete went as if in a haze for me, I couldn’t concentrate on the lively conversations around, my gaze lost and unfocused. I deserved several pointed glances from my coach and a couple of pokes from Alex, who laughed good-humoredly at my wool-gathering.  While you were taking countless selfies with all of the willing guests, I had two shots of local vodka, anticipation getting under my skin. Rafael Vladimirovich shook his head disapprovingly, because he had never seen me drinking strong alcohol before. I ignored his solemn stares, the only thing I wanted badly was to grab you by the waist and throw you on the hotel bed to fuck you senseless.

       You didn’t seem to notice me at all, not a single word shared between us. You were smiling brightly, conversing with Evgenia Medvedeva or Wakaba Higuchi, laughing over Misha Ge’s jokes and obviously having a good time, enjoying yourself. You liked to be in the spotlight from time to time. I couldn’t stand the obnoxious merry-making any longer and after biding goodnight went upstairs to my hotel room.

      It was around 22:00 o’clock when you knocked at my door. Stepping into the room, mischievous gleam in your dark eyes, you went straight to the foot of the bed and started to undress, facing me boldly. Long fingers took off the jacket and a tie, unbuttoned the white shirt leisurely and then discarded pants and underwear absolutely unashamedly. My mouth went dry at the wanton look on your face. You slid on the bed fluidly, stretching in a catlike manner. I ached to feel your flawless skin beneath my hands. I undressed myself completely in no time, your eyes devouring every inch of my muscular body.

– Do you want me to give you _the_ medal? – I asked, my voice sounding considerably lower. You shook your head chuckling, clearly amused.

– I want you to fuck me.

       I felt all of my restraint and self-control vanishing in a nanosecond. I moved to the bed, hovering over you, our heated bodies flush against each other. My hands grabbed your wrists forcefully. I wanted to make you compel and the confident sway of my hips showed you  _who_  would be in charge this time. You moaned, raising your hips to meet mine, our erections rubbing pleasurably in the process. My hands were exploring each curve of your perfect body, thumbs stopping to caress your tiny, sensitive nipples, tongue tracing the contours of your protruding collarbones. Sweet, quiet sounds you were making set my blood on fire. I indulged myself with the smoothness of your porcelain skin, inhaling your heady scent deeply, a trail of my wet kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs. I felt your fingers in my unruly, curly hair, urging me to continue, to give you all I’ve got. Your chest was heaving and a thin sheen of sweat made it glow beautifully.  _Such an unholy, yet godly creature._

        I turned you over roughly, making you lay on your stomach. You didn’t protest even the slightest and looked so pliant and soft, ready to take everything I could give. I wanted you to just let go and it seemed that you wanted the same. I took out the pillow from under your head, rearranging it beneath your hips, making your firm ass present itself in front of me nicely. My mouth was watering at the sight. I caressed the small of your back with feathery touches, taking my time to appreciate the goosebumps on your pale skin. You wiggled your hips, showing signs of impatience. I worshipped the impossible curve of your ass with open-mouth kisses, spreading some of the previously bought lube on my trembling digits, unfathomable lust scorching me from the inside and out.

       I pressed my middle finger carefully into the tight ring of muscles, earning a drowned-out moan from you, your strong thighs shivering from the power of awakened desire. I added one more finger soon and I heard you mutter something in Japanese into the sheets. It turned me on so much, to see my fingers sliding in and out in an unstopping motion, feeling the mind-blowing slick tightness constricting around them. But I knew it was far from being enough for the both of us. I twisted my wrist, adding third finger and experimenting with the angle, trying to find that magical, secret spot inside your heated body. You cried out when my fingers, finally, brushed your prostate. I kept on with my ministrations for quite some time, watching you fall apart completely at the sake of my hands, my other palm caressing the tender skin of your side in a soothing manner. I heard you whimper quietly and felt small tremors around my penetrating fingers increase. It seemed that you were very close to coming untouched.  _Mind-boggling_. You were so sensitive – a true treasure.

       Pretty soon I couldn’t take it anymore too, so I withdrew my hand and quickly covered my achingly hard cock with the needed amount of lube. I positioned myself at your entrance, laying upon your spread body – chest to back, a pillow situated under your hips letting me take you as deep as possible. With one powerful stroke of hips I buried myself inside your quivering heat fully. Your broken cry ringed in my ears and I felt something primal unfurling beneath my skin. I started to move violently fast at once, establishing a breathless pace. I just couldn’t restrain myself as I kept on thrusting into your shuddering body, my hands finding their way to the swell of your supple hips. You bit down onto the sheets, trying to suppress the never-ending flow of loud moans helplessly. You stretched your arms, fingers clenching the bars at the headboard of the bed, your knuckles turning white. I wanted it to last forever: my body washing over yours, covering you like a powerful wave that runs over the shore, each sway of my hips getting us closer to the inconceivable heights.

       I needed to taste you to make our fusion complete, so I showered hungry kisses over the back of your neck and shoulders. Your peculiar flavor was tingling my tongue and you were absolutely  _delicious_. At a certain point, you brought your arm behind and I felt as your short nails dug into the flesh near my hipbone. I wasn’t sure if this gesture was meant to make me stop or if, in such a way, you begged me to continue. The musky scent of sex invaded my nostrils, acute pleasure flooding all of my senses and I looked down at the place where our bodies melded. I had to squeeze my eyes shut, for the sight of my hard flesh plunging continuously inside you made me dizzy with arousal, it became almost too much.

       I felt your body shudder violently beneath mine as you reached your climax, at last – completely losing yourself to a surge of carnal rapture, as your unrestrained, loud cries were piercing me to the very core. I spilled myself right after you, my orgasm crashing me with its overwhelming, punishing force, making me growl lowly.  

       Pulling out, I collapsed on the bed next to your side, breathless and heady from the intensity of the sensations, still trying to comprehend the wildness of the sex act, we had just been in.

        _Un-fucking-believable._

You turned on your back, all sweaty and disheveled, but nevertheless simply  _godlike_. My throat constricted painfully at the sudden realization of my extreme fondness of you, I wanted to wrap my arms around your shivering body protectively, to show you that I _did_ care, to prove to you, that, no matter what, I never really wanted to let you go. And so I did just that. I embraced you wholeheartedly, sharing the warmth of my body, making you feel needed. Breathing you in, absorbing you with every pore of my being.

       We fell asleep in each other arms, completely exhausted and having not even bothered to clean up all of the mess. I woke up to the sound of running water as you were taking shower. I definitely was in need of one too, but I just couldn’t make myself move. I glanced at the bedside clock and it showed half past five. We had some time yet.

       Suddenly, I heard your mobile phone buzzing quietly, signalizing that you had received one incoming message. You were still in the shower and I felt really bad for spying but my curiosity got the best of me. I took your phone out of the pocket of your pants, swiftly unblocking the screen. There was one unread message from the person under the name “ _Javi_ ”. My heart skipped a beat, uneasy feeling settling in my stomach, but I opened it all the same, eyes scanning the text tensely:

_“Hi, Yuzu! Effie misses you terribly. She misses your touch and the way you smell. You know how much she likes to rub against you and to hear you whisper her name. She needs to see you soon. Come back, she’ll be good from now on and she’ll prove that to you! Meow. ”_

Scalding wave of powerless hurt wrecked my body, making stinging tears form at the corner of my eyes but I didn’t let them spill. Snorting at my own foolishness, I bit down at my tongue hard to prevent a frustrated scream from escaping my lips.

 _Just an eighteen years old naive fuck-toy._   _Ha-ha._

       You emerged from the bathroom stark naked, drying your hair with the towel. You sit on the bed near me, hand stretching to caress my cheek gently. I smiled at you faintly, feeling my heart shatter to pieces as your lips closed over mine in the sweetest and the tenderest of kisses.

 

  _Our promises broken  
Nemesis is our token_

 

_**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the feedback is really appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading.


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